


Stuffy

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Adults, Books, Brother/Sister Incest, Canon Gay Character, Children, Complete, Conspiracy Theories, Crimson Peak Spoilers, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, F/M, High School, Lust, M/M, Mild Language, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, Photographs, Post-Crimson Peak, Pre-The Night Manager (TV), Slash, Suspicions, Teenagers, Time Skips, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: Who could possibly want to learn about a bunch of stuffy old dead people ?





	

1971

“Goodnight, Lance. Sleep tight.”

“Night, Mum.”

The near lyrical sentences of E. M. Cushing’s Crimson Peak still swirled in young Lance Corkoran’s mind as he settled into bed. Everything about it sounded so pretty, he’d wanted to hear more but Mum’d said one chapter was enough for tonight what with school’s being tomorrow and she didn’t want him having nightmares. Why would he have nightmares ? He wanted to know more about Thomas and Alan. Like, why did Thomas and Alan have to like Edith when they had more in common with each other ? But Dad said those sorts of questions were bad and he wasn’t to ever ask about them, like Edith with Lucille’s house keys.

* * *

  
1979

Lance drummed his fingers on the desktop, history textbook set perfectly straight before him. Ten minutes until class started and no one else had shown up yet, not even Mrs. Finlay. He couldn’t blame them. After all, who could possibly want to learn about a bunch of stuffy old dead people ? Just for something to do he opened the book and started flipping through it. Done that, done that, boring, boring. God, some bloke bugger him wasn’t there something even the slightest bit interesting in this book ? Ooh, hello, Handsome.

Curly chin-length dark hair, pale skin, sharp cheekbones, clean shaven and an impeccable three-piece suit and top hat. The black-and-white photograph couldn’t possibly have done the man justice. So, who were we ? His eyes slid down to the caption: Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet of Harding Poole. 1866-1901.

Mentally, he did the math, give or take that the birth date could’ve been off by a year or two, and winced. Sir Thomas would’ve been only in his mid- to late-thirties at the latest. “Ouch. What happened to you, love ?”

Something about that title and name seemed familiar. Sir Thomas Sharpe, Thomas Sharpe, not Crimson Peak’s Thomas, surely ? Mum had told him it was just a book. But, that was the whole thing wasn’t it ? Why tell her boy that the pretty book about tangled relationships and letting go of the past, that ended with two murders, was based on real events ? For once something made perfect sense. He gently flipped the page and found a new image, this one of Thomas and Alan. Alan’s blond hair and lighter clothing contrasted with Thomas’s in a perfect moment of yin-yang symbolism.

Thomas had been perfectly fine with shagging Lucille so who was to say he hadn’t been buggering Alan on the side ? Make up some manful excuse then go have sex in Thomas’s hotel room. In fact, Thomas and Alan might even have secretly met in 1888 when Thomas was in London and Alan was at the university. The university would’ve needed volunteers sometime and with Thomas’s lust for new, and 100% Lucille-free, experiences he would’ve hopped to it quick as lightning. Secret love affairs, they made everything so exciting.

Hmm, did the school’s library have a copy of Crimson Peak ? He was definitely going to have to check later. Didn’t it have drawings too in the original editions, at least ? There were four auction houses in the surrounding area, one of them had to know something. If there was one available Dad wouldn’t even notice if some money happened to go missing he’d just think Mum spent it on something.

Suddenly, like a barrage of babbling budgies, the non-fun kind, Archibald Leslie White and his lackeys strode through the door. Archie stopped in front of his desk, “Are we drooling over pictures again, Montague ? You could at least confine it to the dorm. Actually, someone could just confine you and I doubt anyone would notice your absence.”

“Well, that depends at the moment. Do we have fun buggering our lackeys in the lav, Leslie ? You know I wouldn’t touch them even if they were the last blokes on Earth but it’s nice to know that you only pretend to have standards.”

“Bloody freak.” Archie snarled and stalked off to his desk.

Archie was his personal Mr. Cushing, therefore all he had to do was find his Alan. Well, there was whatshisname something McMillan who’d been getting flirty lately. It was close enough and if that didn't work he could always branch out.


End file.
